Wrong Turns
by Drex
Summary: A post-Crush fic. Buffy realizes some things...


_DISCLAIMER: I don't own Buffy or Spike or the BtVS-verse - I'm just trying to make sense of it all. They, in reality, belong Fox Television, WB network, Mutant Enemy, and of course, Joss Whedon - I just like subverting things to fit my view..._

* * *

## Wrong Turns

#### by  
Lisa Y. Drexel

* * *

It wasn't until she was lying there, in bed, almost asleep that his face kept haunting her.  And then she would hear his voice pleading with her to acknowledge that attraction that she had kept buried deep inside of her...

 Begging her... for her to listen to him—to trust his feelings for her. 

"Damn him," she whispered.  "Why did he do this?  Why did he bring this out in the open?  Why couldn't he just let it be?" 

[Because he loves you...] her little voice answered.  [Loves you like he loves Dru...] 

"And see where that got her.  He nearly staked Dru tonight!" she snapped back.  "He can't love...he's a soulless vampire...and vampires can't love." 

[Bullshit!  You know that's a lie!  Remember how he backed down at that club when you had a stake aimed at Dru's heart?  That wouldn't have worked if he couldn't love...] 

"But—"

[But what?  Remember that he gave up everything that held true for Dru's sake?  Went against his very nature to help you save the world—betrayed his sire, hit Dru, and that was before he had the chip?  Remember him sitting there at your kitchen table drinking hot cocoa with your mother, bemoaning his woes about Dru instead of killing your mom?  Remember that he's had an invitation to your home for over two years and has never violated that trust?  He may've tried killing you, but he didn't sneak into your home and slit your throat—or even abduct you or your mother?] 

"That didn't stop him from rooting through my stuff—stealing my clothes and pictures, did it?" She snapped at herself as she rolled off her bed and began pacing the length of her room.  "It didn't stop him from setting up a Buffy-shrine and—and a mannequin for god's sake in his little cellar thing, did it?" 

[He's a demon...] 

"And it didn't stop him from tying me up like some virgin ready for sacrifice tonight while he tried getting me to admit to something that cannot exist!" 

['Cannot', not 'doesn't?] 

"Argh!" Buffy mock-growled as she threw pulled out a pair of jeans and tee-shirt.  After getting dressed, she grabbed her slaying bag, marched over to her window and had one leg out the window before she realized what she was doing. 

"Damn him," she moaned, slamming her fist against the window sill.  "Damn him for screwing with my brain like that..."  

That's what he did.  It was like she had two camps sitting inside of her heart—one side was repulsed by everything that Spike was—and the other side could only silently agree with him—that there was something ***_more_*** between them than the fighting and killing...that there was some sort of attraction going on - on both sides.  

Because why else had she let him live this long?

Why else had he had an invite to her home for over two years?

Why else did she turn to him when Dawn and her mother needed protecting?

Why else would his words hurt so much, if she didn't care?

Oh, she knew she wasn't supposed to care...she knew that the good, proper slayer would have just staked him years ago...she knew all this, and yet she never could. 

And now? She still couldn't.  

Even if he did get the chip out. 

"What a mess," she said as she sat up and stared out into the night.  *_This is why you should never get chummy with vampires,_* she thought to herself.  *_This is why you should never think of them as anything other than beasts to be put down... because if you do,  they can get underneath your skin and make you start questioning everything - like, what is a soul?  When I compare Angel and Angelus, the answer is easy: a soul is good and not having a soul is bad.  But then I compare Spike to Angelus, and suddenly the answer isn't all that clear anymore.  Spike did things—good things—without a soul.  Would Angelus ever help me protect my mom and Dawn—even with a chip?_*

"Hell no," she whispered.  

[Would Dru?  Darla?  The Master? Dracula?]

"No," she whispered.  

[And why is that?]

"Because they couldn't love me—even with a chip.  Because they couldn't tolerate me with a soul...because they can't love like Spike..."  Her voice drifted off as she realized what she said.   "Oh my God, what did I do?" she asked herself seconds before jumping out the window and began to head off to Spike's crypt. 

It wasn't that she was in love with him, because she wasn't.  She didn't even know if she ***_could_*** fall in love with him.  She had spent the last year and a half fighting him—belittling him—emasculating him—taking out all her anger on him—because he was handy.  

[That's not the only reason, is it?] her little voice piped up. 

Stopping mid-step, Buffy dipped her head to the side and thought about that. *_What do you mean?_* she asked herself. 

[Why are you really angry with him?  Think about this before you see him or you'll never get to the root of the problem...] 

*_I don't understand._* 

[Were you always this hateful to him?  This mean to him?] 

"No," she said softly as she began walking again. *_I mean, I hated him—because he was Spike and he was going to kill me. He'd already killed two slayers—and I was next on his list.  That isn't the foundation of warm and fuzzy feelings, but there was a time..._*

[Yes?]

*_All right!  There was a time when I only hated him, not loathed him like I do now...what changed?_*

[Four words:  Gem, Quad, Parker and Angel.]

"Shit!" she muttered, realizing once again her little voice was right.  That was the changing point in their relationship.  It turned from enemies that sometimes helped one another to hating the sight of him—standing there all cocky and self-assured as he rubbed his stomach and made some scathing comment about her not being worth a second go.  After that, something snapped inside of her.  It wasn't all Spike's fault—it was hardly even his fault.  But he was the one that rubbed the salt in that bleeding Angel-wound that even to this day had yet to heal.

It was Spike that reiterated all those feelings of insecurity that had been fluttering around inside of her—vocalizing her fears about Angel, Parker—whether she would ever fall in love again. Whether love would ever be worth it.  Whether any man would bother to stay with her—whether she was really worth it or not.

It was with that mentality that she finally gave in to Riley when he pushed it with her.  Even though everything inside of her was screaming that this normal human boy wasn't what she wanted or needed—the memory of Spike's cool kisses were still haunting her at that time...and other things as well...dreams of Angel, a heartbeat and ice cream—the look on the human's face convinced her otherwise.  Riley looked like a man who would stick around... a man that would love her. 

But she forgot one important detail... it takes two to be in love. 

Taking note of her surroundings, she nearly turned back when she realized she was already at the cemetery.  What was she going to say to him?  *_Hey Spike, I'm sorry I was so mean to you—I should've respected your feelings._* 

"Oh God," she whispered.  *_And if he doesn't kill you after that..._*

"Coming to stomp me into the ground a little more?  Finish off what Harm started?" 

Jerking her head up, she spotted him sitting on top of a gravestone with a bottle of bourbon in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other and a scowl on his face.  

"Well, you don't have to bother...I'm thinking of taking up sunbathing, it's not like I have much to live for, you know."

Taking a deep breath, she walked up to him—standing about five feet in front of him—and forced herself to meet his eyes. 

She nearly turned on her heel and ran back home. 

The last time she had seen as much raw pain in someone eyes was the day after she sent Angel to hell, and that had been herself. 

Again, that camaraderie reared its ugly head, and it was all Buffy could do not to stake the vampire where he stood. 

That was why she hated him so much—because he reminded her of herself... what she would have been like if she hadn't been called... what she could be like if someone was to turn her. 

It wasn't always a pleasant thing dealing with your darkside on a daily basis, was it?  

Was this the way Angel felt everyday dealing with his own demon?

"Well?  What the hell do you want, Summers?  Can't you see I'm busy here?  Planning my suicide..."

Clenching her jaw, she held out her hand to silence him.  

He growled back at her.

"God!  You are impossible!"  She yelled out as she began pacing in front of him.  "You know, at first I didn't believe you.  I thought it was some sort of master plan to either pull one off on me, or to kill me or something nefarious, because there's just no way that you could be in love with me...just no way.

"And then it hit me...suddenly all these pieces of the puzzle fell into place.  I was laying in bed—almost asleep—and suddenly your face popped up—and I saw that pain in your eyes—the horror when you realized I took away your invitation.  Guilt squirmed its way through me as I began going over everything that has happened between us in the past four years.  

"We never killed each other...because, if we had really tried, one or both of us would be dead by now.  It wasn't until the truce that I even thought of you as anything other than a vampire.  You became a person to me then, and as you are well aware of, I have a problem dusting people I know.  Angelus, Harm, Dru—even you—that's one of my weaknesses.  

"And it also occurred to me that you have been trustworthy in a sense. You've had an invitation into my home for nearly three years and never violated that trust.  For a year and a half you could've snuck in and slit my throat, killed my mother—killed me—kidnapped me—numerous things—and you didn't.  Even with the ring, you didn't.

"I also realized that the chip isn't what makes you different—it's you—whatever imprint of William that's left—that's what makes you an anomaly.  If Angelus had been in your shoes, there's no way he would've done some of the things you've done to help me.  He wouldn't have helped me protect my mom and Dawn...he wouldn't have fought side by side with me against the latest and greatest demon...he wouldn't have done any of that.  And neither would any other vampire I know of it...even Harm.  

"I was wrong to discount your feelings or to scorn you...I know that you can love.  I've known that for nearly four years, but somewhere along the line, I forgot it."

She stopped pacing and sneaked a glance at him.  He was watching her carefully—with a pensive look on his face as if he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

*_God, he knows me too well,_* she thought to herself.  She jammed her hands into her pants pockets to hide that she was shaking.  

"But," she said softly.  "I don't know if I can trust you."

"Bloody hell, slayer!  What the hell else do you want from me?  I nearly staked Dru for you—and I would've if Harm hadn't interfered!"  He jumped off the headstone and began pacing in a flurry of emotion.  "I saved your hide a half a dozen times in the past few months.  I've watched out for you...your sister...I've done this all...and you won't even acknowledge it!"  He finished with a growl as he bent down and grabbed his liquor bottle.  "It's like I'm a bleeding rat in a maze—always taking the wrong turn—"

"Spike!  Stop it!" She yelled out as her eyes shut in aggravation. *_God, he drives me nuts!_*  

[Oh you love it—he makes you feel alive—something you've been sorely missing since Angel left...]

*_Oh great—now I can argue with myself and him!  Shut the hell up!_* she yelled at the irritating inner voice that had been plaguing her for last hour.

"Okay Buffy—I'm shutting up now—what else do you have to say?" Spike asked, his voice strained.

Hunching her shoulders, she ignored that tendril of fear that had been working its way throughout her body.  Did she really want to know?  Did she really want to take this any further?  Did she really want to do this...

*_Yes...even if scares me,_* she answered herself as she looked over at him, inwardly chastising herself when she realized that she did, indeed, find him attractive...in a dark, sexy way.  Way more sexy than Dracula or Riley...right up there with Angel.

*_Oh God, I'm in trouble,_* she thought to herself, and then promptly pushed that thought right out of her head. "I have two questions that I need answered and then, I guess, we'll go on from there."

"All right—might as well.  I got a few hours until sunrise," he said as he leaned against the headstone.  

"Why did you hate me so much when you came back for the Gem?" She watched as his scarred eyebrow arched in question.  This spurred her on to continue.  "What changed?  Not that trying to kill me was a surprise to me or anything. But, it was the other stuff—wh—when we were fighting—the stuff you said..." she trailed off as she began to wring her hands, using every bit of her will power not to take off and run far away from this situation.  *_This is soo not of the good._*  She noticed that his face lost that confused air about him as he thought about her question.

"Good, you know what I'm talking about then?"

"Why?  Why is this so important, Buffy?" he asked as he shook out a cigarette.  "Out of everything you could ask me?"

Rolling her eyes, she took a deep calming breath and forced herself not to snap at him.  "Let's just say that that day was a turning point in how I reacted towards you..."

His eyes closed as he took a deep drag off his cigarette.  After nearly a minute they snapped back open and his mouth dropped, giving off the air of perfect understanding.  "Shit..."

"Yeah, shit is right.  Answer the question."

"I was so pissed off.  Dru left me because of you...caring on about seeing me in a cloud of ashes...about how I couldn't kill you.  And that was right before the first time I came back."  He chuckled, his voice taking on an almost sardonic quality.  "When I went back to her, and she left me again—the last time for a Fungus Demon—it was the same tune, different words."  He shrugged.  "By the time I got the Gem, all I could think about was hurting you as much as you hurt me."

She nodded, not surprised at his answer, now that she knew what had been going on with him.  Earlier that night, Dru had said something of the same light—that Spike had already had feelings for her—before the chip—probably as far back as their truce.

Smirking, she could only shake her head at the way things had turned out.  *_The ironies abound,_* she thought to herself.  *_If he hadn't been such a prick to me during that fight, I might've been a bit more humane towards him when he came to us for help.  I would've treated him with the modicum of respect that I had felt for him up until that fight, instead of the contempt and disdain that he received..._*

If that had happened, things would've turned out a lot different in the past year and half than they had.

Not that she would have let Spike into her heart any easier, but at least he wouldn't have felt like such a loose end—vying up for a place in the world where he could fit in.  He wouldn't have sided with Adam last spring because she might've been serious in helping him find a way of getting his chip removed—with another deal, no doubt.  But still, she wouldn't have been so hateful and so spiteful when he needed her.

"—the other question?"

She turned her head and met his questioning glance. "Hmm?" 

"The other question, Buffy, what is it?" Biting her bottom lip, she looked out into the night—staring at the familiar headstones as she kept thinking about the right way to ask him her next question.  Any way she worded it would still hurt him, and for the first time in a long time, she was loath to do just that.  After she had finally acknowledged her own bitchiness in this scenario, she couldn't help but feel ashamed about her actions. 

And she had been a bitch to him.  No matter what the circumstances, he hadn't deserved some of things she had said to him in the past few months—especially since he had been trying to change.  

When did she become so cold?  So inhumane?  When did she stop looking at the world with the same guile and hopefulness that Dawn did?  When did she begin to act like the very same demons that she had been destined to kill? 

Granted, some of it was expected. 

One couldn't spend five years as a killer, and not have it affect her in some ways.  But still, she was the one with the soul and since Angel had left her, she had forgotten what it felt like to feel. 

Mind made up, she turned back to face him.  "Can you give me time?  Can you accept that I'm not going to throw myself in your arms, and live happily ever after with you?  Can you accept that I need time to heal...from Angel and from Riley?"  She let out a harsh laugh as she shook her head at herself.   "I'm not going to say, 'let's be friends' or something else in that vein...but I don't trust you.  You've hurt me, Spike.  And I've been hurt by others, and the only way I can even know if there's something between us is if I deal with that first." 

Sighing heavily, he flicked his cigarette out into the grass and leaned back against the headstone—his eyes closed—saying nothing.

"Can you give me a reason to build that trust?  Like you've been doing, but now that I'm open to seeing the change, I'll take it for face value instead of wondering what it is that you're trying to pull next."  Feeling that restlessness build once again, she ran her fingers through her hair and began pacing in front of him.  "Can you let me get to know you as a person, and not as the slayer of slayers?  You've spent the better part of the past three months doing just that—in your own way.  The pictures, my clothes—you've taken this leap and I need to do that as well—but I can't trust that tendril of something that I have for you—unless I know you...I've been down this road before—with Angel.  And yes, he did have a soul, but he also had a demon that was ten times worse than yours."  She snorted, shaking her head once again at the weirdness that was her life.  "Intellectually, I have trusted you—without a soul—far more than I have trusted any other soulless vampire ever.  All those things I mentioned earlier are true.  You wouldn't have had an open invitation for all these years into my home if I didn't trust you on some level.  But with my heart, suddenly all that trust has disappeared—along with the invitation—and I need to start at the beginning.  I know you're not the most patient person, but can you give me time?" 

Pacing back and forth, she didn't even notice that he had finally moved until he had stepped out in front of her—grabbing her arm in the process.  

Startled, she forced herself not to flinch and made herself look up into his eyes.  Like humans, his eyes were a window into his—what?—heart?—or whatever inner-self a soulless vampire possessed.  It seemed that if Buffy truly wanted to know what he was feeling, all she had to do was look into his eyes.

Maybe that was another reason she had never dusted him.  His eyes spoke to her—touching a place in her soul where vampires and slayers were just vague ideas, and the boundaries and lines that she had been forced to deal with daily for over five years were nonexistent.  Leaving just William and Buffy—their core selves.

Buffy knew without a doubt, if she had met the human William, she could've fallen in love with him.

Instead of seeing anger or frustration in those dark blue orbs, she saw understanding—even relief—reflected back at her.  "It's all I have a right to ask, love.  Just a chance," he said, giving a small smile.  "So, do you want me to see you home, pet?" he asked, stepping back from her and holding out his elbow.

She nodded, ignoring her racing heart and slipped her arm through the crook of his arm.  As they made their way through the cemetery towards her home, she couldn't ignore the wave of relief that filled her.

*_This is the way it should've been,_* she thought to herself, her mind returning back to a time before the rage and anger overcame the both of them.  Maybe she would never fall in love with him or trust him with her heart, but at least she could give him the same chance he had given her.

It was the least she could do.

It was the human thing to do.


End file.
